Things we learned from last week's wolf-is-missing story:
1. Golden Toast is a great name for a wolf, and you wish the other members of the pack were Short Stack, Twinberry and Flaky Croissant. Then if they all got out you could assume they'd be captured hiding in the bushes by a Perkins.
2. Whoever let the wolf out apparently believes that wolves wander around in some mystical untouched forest where their only natural enemies are Grendel and the unicorn; if they want to join a pack, they howl a lot -- the wolf equivalent of joining LinkedIn -- and find a pack. There's a brief job interview ("My previous positions have been mostly alpha, but I am certified in most forms of submissive behavior and am willing to take a position as a beta, providing there's room for advancement"), then they trot off to a happy life singing to the moon and eating small squeaky things that say, "Thank you, Mr. Wolf, for this opportunity to participate in the circle of life." Honestly, if you let a wolf out to satisfy your own ideological construct, you have issues and should spend less time dusting your collection of porcelain wolves and more time at the soup kitchen.
3. Wolves are now the good guys. Don't get me wrong: I love wolves. I'm glad Toast, well, isn't. You can't love dogs and not love wolves. They are the Bogart and Bacall of dogs -- cool, tough, glamorous, romantic, although they don't smoke as much. But once upon a time, as they said in fairy tales, wolves were The Enemy. They ate livestock, demolished the houses of carefree Little Pigs, ate Riding Hoods. They were the symbol of darkness and rapacious nature. Remember "Peter and the Wolf"? Its beloved music ends with a happy march because the hunter shot the wolf. In the olden days we would shoo the kids into the house: A wolf is loose! Run!
Now I think we'd send the kids out to find the wolf.
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 More daily at www.startribune.com/blogs/lileks
